


A tragedy, a comedy, that is life

by Seisu



Series: TimDami Week 2020 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Beautiful Damian Wayne, Bottom Damian Wayne, Condom? In my fic? yeah didn't expect it either, Damian was 10, Dirty Thoughts, Guilt, Love at First Sight, M/M, Plot Twists, Sex Pollen, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim needs a filter for his mouth, Top Tim Drake, Wet Dream, but not really?, no beta we die like men, you'll understand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seisu/pseuds/Seisu
Summary: TimDami Day 1:  Love at First SightIt was madness.Tim didn’t believe in love at first sight. In the first place, love is just a fleeting thing, ever-changing and intangible. He would be stupid to put weight in something such as love.No. It could not be love.But it was something.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Series: TimDami Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037829
Comments: 13
Kudos: 123
Collections: TimDami Week





	A tragedy, a comedy, that is life

**Author's Note:**

> TimDami Week Day 1: Love at first sight
> 
> Set in the period when Damian comes to Gotham and is not Robin yet
> 
> Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction and has absolutely no construct upon the hell we call reality. In other words, don't use this as a substitute for sex ed.

It was madness.

Tim didn’t believe in love at first sight. In the first place, love is just a fleeting thing, ever-changing and intangible. He would be stupid to put weight in something such as love.

No. It could not be love.

_But it was something._

Tim flinched at the thought. He could lie to himself- tell himself it was nothing, a temporary infatuation. Everyone has that at least once in their life.

Not for someone seven years younger. Not for a _fucking child._

The voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Batman and _ohshitwhatifBatmanfindsout-_

“Drake?”

His skeleton almost jumped straight out his skin at the voice. He nearly tripped over his own foot in his hurry to face Damian. 

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, you need to wear a bell, kid.”

Amusement flashed through the little face before melting back into a look of indifference. “I do not. If anything, you need to increase your awareness of the surrounding.”

Well, even if that was true, he didn’t want to hear it from a child.

Especially the child he’s having wet dreams of.

“Whatever, Damian. What are you doing here?”

The tiny - _wow, he’s not even half my size_ \- boy gave him a look. “I’m in need of Pennyworth’s assistance.”

Tim remembered Alfred saying how the food had run out faster than he expected so he was making a quick grocery run to last them until the next grocery delivery. “Alfred’s not here, what do you need?”

Damian blinked, eyelashes fluttering delicately. “It would be faster to show you.”

And it was so _so_ dangerous to let himself go with the flow when he should be distancing himself from the beautiful boy, should be taking measures to prevent himself from touching him inappropriately but Tim could not bring himself to shake off Damian’s calloused hands as the boy pulled him along.

They soon arrived in one of the abandoned wings of the manor, just outside a room that even Tim hadn’t explored. Not for the lack of curiosity though.

“This room is?”

“The music room.” Damian pushed the door open, the hinge creaking. “Father said that I may have it.”

The inside of the music room was better than what he had imagined initially, taking into account how long it had not been used. Bruce himself had not entered the room in a long time. 

Tim was a little surprised that Bruce was the one to offer the room —it was after all another precious memorabilia of his mother.

The reason Tim had not entered the room.

But he supposed Damian was different.

“Is there any problem, Drake?” Damian furrowed his brows.

Tim shook his head. “Nah, just thought of something. You cleaned all this up?”

The carpet had recently been changed —vibrant crimson red and made of goat’s wool, different from the rest of the manor. The curtains were gone, sunlight pouring inside through open windows. There was a distinct lack of dust, the grand piano clearly had been wiped down in a thorough manner and other instruments covered in white cloth.

“Pennyworth had people change the carpet but I did the rest.”

Tim could not imagine how this boy -who acted more like a little prince than a real prince- would have dusted the room on his own. “Oh. Really?”

Damian looked offended —a good look on him. “This room is mine and I take excellent care of what’s _mine_ , Drake.”

 _Mine_. Weird how Tim wanted to hear Damian says it again.

“Okay, okay. What do you need help with?”

Damian gestured to the grand piano. “I want to move it there, by the window. One of the casters is broken.”

Tim inspected the wheel. It was not broken per se but it was certainly stuck in its position, unable to turn and making the process of moving the piano triple as hard it should be. Certainly not something a 10-year-old would have the strength to do.

Tim glanced at Damian. 

_Not a normal 10-year-old._

“It will be easier to push it together.” Tim finally said.

Damian nodded, moving to place himself right beside Tim. They managed to move it rather smoothly. 

“I appreciate your help, Drake,” Damian turned green eyes — _like diamonds_ , Tim thought a little in awe— at him. “Is there anything you like in return?”

Before he could put a filter on his mouth, he blurted out, “Anything?”

Damian didn’t bat an eyelash. “Yes, anything.”

His mouth felt drier than it had a few minutes earlier. “Uh, nothing, I guess.”

“Oh, I suppose you can ask something of me in the future then.”

“Uh, yeah, great, I gotta go— see ya!”

He ran out.

He didn’t remember to ask why Damian was searching for Alfred at the TV room instead of the kitchen, where he should be at this time of the day.

* * *

_“Mother told me to kill you.” A childish voice sounded from behind him and Tim jumped a little because he had been alone in the Batcave._

_Ethereal- the first word that came to mind._

_A little boy with the greenest eyes he had ever seen appeared in front of him. Bruce’s son. This was the first time he saw the boy up close. The boy was just standing but there was something about him that demanded attention— Tim imagined he would be the focus of the room wherever he went. Skin that shone golden even under the dim lighting, and pouty lips that had the slightest of pink. And his eyes -Tim didn’t think anyone could tire themselves of looking at them._

_It took a few seconds for the words to register in his mind. “Kill me? Why?”_

_“She believes you are a threat.” He cocked his head to the side, assessing._

_Tim wondered what he was thinking. “Okaaaay. What you gonna do about it?”_

_Beautiful or not, he was not going to let a 10-year-old kill him._

_Damian shrugged. “I will let you live, for now.”_

_Tim felt a little amused. What could a 10-year-old do to him, honestly? He was Robin, for crying out loud. Still, he humoured the child, “Gee, thanks.”_

_He held out his hand._

_Damian took it, his hand so small in Tim’s. They shook hands._

_A little brother, he thought._

_He ignored the irrational dark voice in his head still admiring the boy, in ways less than innocent._

* * *

He had dreams, sometimes, when he did sleep. 

Damian was in those dreams.

In some fragments he could remember, they fought a lot in those dreams, Damian trying to kill him and him hitting back just as hard. A stark contrast to the civility they had at the moment.

Tim knew it wasn’t real, though. 

Because in the rest of the dreams, he was fucking Damian.

Damian looked a little older, slightly bigger, his baby face less childish. Maybe a few years older at most. He was wearing a torn-up Robin costume.

One that Tim quickly rid him of.

Blurry images of bloody red bites on golden tan skin. Smooth hairless thigh, slender neck, tiny waist and delicate limbs. Naked. There were tears streaming down the boy’s face as the child - _still a child even in his dream, what the fuck_?- glared but Tim didn’t feel an ounce of guilt in his dream.

He felt _justified, triumphant_. He finally had what he wanted.

Tim had fucked the boy in his dreams relentlessly, uncaring of the muffled sobbing. And when he was close, he leaned in to kiss Damian who turned his face away in an act of defiance. He didn’t insist, kissing the side of the boy’s face.

The whimper Damian let out when he came deep inside the boy was beautiful.

Just like the rest of him.

That was just one of them. 

“ _You’re crazy, Drake_ ,” Damian had whispered in his dream, pinned down like a dead butterfly underneath him. There were betrayal and rage in his eyes. 

Tim had laughed. There was blood on his hands but it didn’t belong to him or Damian.

* * *

Tim vomited when he woke up.

* * *

“Drake.”

Tim started at the voice. “Sorry, what?”

“You were staring at me.”

“Oh,” Tim blinked. He must be more out of it than he thought. “Sorry.”

Damian huffed. “I have no need for your apologies, Drake. I am merely wondering if you’re unwell.”

_I actually have wet dreams where I raped you, does that sound well to you?_

“I’m okay. Just not enough sleep, I guess.”

Damian gave him a look of pure scepticism. “As you can see, Drake, we are both here in this room because we cannot sleep.”

Tim smiled sheepishly. He didn’t expect Damian to see Damian in the library at this time as he was wandering around aimlessly in the manor, especially because patrol had been over ages ago. So he stuck around for the company.

Which was probably a bad idea, but Tim was more known for his investigation skill, not his decision-making.

“Why are you awake, anyway?”

Damian tensed. _Oops, a bad question, was it?_

Tim opened his mouth to take back the question but Damian beat him to it.

“Why are you asking?”

Damian narrowed his eyes at him, and an image came to Tim’s mind without permission — _Damian, glaring at him despite the red flush to his skin, mouth swollen around Tim’s cock and hands tied up._

“No reason. I’m just curious.”

An odd expression passed through Damian’s face, too fast for Tim to properly catch but he thought it looked like apprehension. The boy stood up and for a moment, Tim felt his stomach grew heavier than lead, but Damian just walked to the large window.

He said nothing when Tim got up to follow him.

Moonlight spilt over the boy. He looked more like a fairie than a human in this instant, green eyes reflecting silver in a way that should not be possible. 

Tim reminded himself to breathe.

“I had a dream.”

It was Damian who spoke.

“Everyone was dead. I came home to see Father and Pennyworth had died from arsenic.” 

Tim’s eyes rounded. He didn’t expect to hear that.

“Grayson and Todd were missing but I received photographs of their bodies. Brown, strangled. Cain, poisoned in the open air.”

Damian didn’t cry or tremble —he just stared out into the dark endless field that was Wayne’s manor backyard.

“Oh.” Tim scrambled for words. “Who killed them?”

“Joker.”

“Oh.” Tim felt dumb all of the sudden. Here was Damian feeling worried about his nightmares while Tim— “You know it’s not real, right?”

Damian finally looked at him. “Yet it feels real to me.”

Me too.

“I know but you should still remember, all of us are alive right now, Damian.”

Damian stared at him, before giving a single firm nod. “You are right.”

“What happens to me in your dream?”

Damian blinked as if just realising he did not say anything about Tim.

“You’re the first to die.”

That sounded like the truth but somehow Tim felt that Damian was lying.

* * *

“ _I love you. I love you from the first moment I saw you_.” Tim heard himself say, mouth moving as if he was controlled by another force.

Another dream.

Damian was beneath him, looking tiny and thoroughly fucked out. There was no strength left in him to struggle— Tim wondered if he was drugged. He looked tiredly up at Tim as he declared his love and screwed his eyes shut. 

Dream Tim wasn’t having it. “ _Let me see your pretty eyes, sweetheart. Or you know what I’ll do to your pets._ ”

There was a muffled _hiss_ and Damian instantly opened his eyes.

“ _Don’t you dare, Drake_.”

“ _But I do dare. I have done worse, remember?_ ” As if making a point, he sped up his thrusts, letting Damian whimper with each slam.

Despite that, Damian still looked into Tim’s eyes.

“ _Beautiful. I’d never seen anything like your eyes, dear. But then again, there was no one quite like you in this world, aren’t there?”_

_“Fuck you, Drake.”_

_“Don’t worry, Damian, I’m more interested in fucking you.”_

_“Do you not have a conscience? I’m a minor. Your brother. By law.”_

Tim laughed, and it sounded deranged even to his own ears, like Joker’s.

_“Now, now, love. We both know you have never been a child. And brother? Don’t make me laugh.”_

He pressed a kiss against Damian’s bleeding lips, filling his mouth easily with his tongue. Damian struggled against his grip but in his bound and drugged state, there was no hope for escape.

_“It’'s hilarious; you struggle more when I kiss you. Saving it for someone you love? A bit too late for that, don’t you think?”_

His voice was cold and cruel, gloating. 

As the dream faded away, Tim distantly thought his dream self might be jealous.

* * *

“Hi, Damian.” Tim raised his hand lazily in greeting as he entered the kitchen. 

The boy didn’t react much besides a nod, continuing to nurse his cup of tea unperturbed. He must have noticed Tim from ten metres away —a shame, Tim did want to see him startled for once.

It was easier now not to have intrusive thoughts around Damian— he just had to focus on anywhere else but Damian’s eyes, like the spot between his brows or his ear.

_CRASH!_

Tim jumped. The cup Damian was holding had shattered to pieces, tea spilt over the kitchen marble tiles.

“Damian?” He rushed over to the crouching boy. “Are you hurt?”

“Poi-son,” Damian said through gritted teeth. He was feverish and sweating, Tim realised, the red flush in his skin reminiscent of— 

“What?” _How can anyone poison Damian here?_

“Tea leaves. Contaminated. Ivy?”

Tim grabbed the tin container and the detector Alfred had stored in another drawer. A _beep_ sounded.

Oh. No. No. _No._ Sure, there were reports of civilians accidentally getting Poison Ivy’s merchandise but of all the houses they could reach, why was it the Wayne manor?

“Drake?” Damian’s words were starting to slur.

_Oh yeah. Focus._

He and Damian were the only ones at home. Batman away on Justice League business. Alfred had to make an emergency trip to England for his daughter. Dick’s in Bludhaven. Jason- he could call Jason.

_And let him have Damian instead?_

Tim shook his head. No, what was he thinking? He needed an adult for this. 

_You can just take him. Made no difference._

Tim resolutely ignored the voice, taking out his phone and dialling Jason’s number.

Damian was panting now. “Drake.”

“It’s fine, Damian. We’re getting you help.”

The phone rang and rang and rang but no one picked up. Finally, it went into the voicemail.

_“Hi, if this is B, fuck yo-”_

Tim hung up. He called again.

“ _Hi, if this-_ ” Hung up.

“Drake?” Damian sounded breathy, too much like his dreams.

He shouldn’t do it.

“It’s okay, I’ll help you.”

* * *

He took Damian into his room— for lack of better option. Well, there was no way he’s going to do it in Damian’s room, right? 

By the time he got Damian naked and on the bed, he was moaning shamelessly. Damian looked so small, way smaller than he should be. 

_I just need to get him off. Just need to let it ‘run its course’. Nothing more._

He got behind Damian, positioning the boy’s body so that his back pressed against Tim’s chest. It was not a very good idea, because now Damian’s ass was flushed against his groin.

Damian shivered.

“I will make this quick, okay?”

Tim reached around Damian’s slim waist. The boy was already hard.

Damian moaned. “ _Drakeee_ ”

Damian’s skin was too hot and Tim struggled to not think of how pliant he was and instead tried to remind himself that it was a 10-year-old, too young and should not even be remotely exposed to this stuff.

The thought only turned him on more.

Instead of continuing with that thought, Tim gently gripped Damian’s cock, rubbing and massaging it.

Damian threw his head back on Tim’s shoulder, writhing impatiently. He soon came, hips bucking and mouth releasing obscene noise.

Tim would have sighed in relief if not for Damian’s whisper.

“Drake, _please..._ ”

That was the first time he heard Damian say please. Pity it was in this kind of situation.

_What other situation would be better?_

Tim ignored the laughter in his head, sufficiently distracted by the fact Damian was hard again.

He ran through the facts about Poison Ivy’s pollen —it seemed that the one Damian ingested was one of much stronger aphrodisiac, one that would need actual sex. Tim did not have the time to cook up an antidote —plus he didn’t learn enough about dosage for children Damian’s age, he could easily kill him. No one was around.

He would have to fuck Damian.

_Fuck yes._

_“Shit.”_

“Drake.” Damian sounded annoyed, squirming again and Tim wanted to laugh all of the sudden.

He didn’t. Instead, he manoeuvred Damian so he was facing him, short muscly legs around Tim’s waist- Damian was small enough that Tim could tuck his head right under his chin. A glimpse of the boy’s face told Tim that his pupils were blown wide, almost hiding the shade of green that was Tim’s favourite.

For a moment, Tim wondered if he should ask for consent but Damian was in no state of mind to give one and it’s not like Tim can stop now. He quickly retrieved condom and lube from the drawer.

Tim tried to still Damian, who was squirming relentlessly for more friction, as best as he could in this position -briefly wondering if he should set the boy in presenting position instead but ultimately decided against it- and gently inserted one finger into Damian.

He was tight.

_Of course he is. Imagine him around your cock._

Tim pumped his finger in and out, encouraged by the little impatient whines. He inserted the second finger, scissoring and stretching him wider, gradually working other fingers in.

“A-ah, more.”

Before Tim could stop himself, he asked, “More what?”

Damian pulled back from his tucked in position to glare at Tim —a surprisingly fierce and annoyed glare that Tim almost chuckled at the sight of. Of course, Damian wouldn’t know what he was asking for, innocent as he was in this area of life.

The innocence that Tim was ruining.

Tim stopped that train of thought, setting Damian on the mattress gently. He had an overwhelmingly strong urge to kiss Damian’s glossy lips but held himself back.

Tim quickly undressed, stripping off his clothes in record time. With the combination of his own dark fantasy playing out before his eyes, Damian’s warm body rubbing against his and the lewd sound, Tim had no trouble getting hard without help. He unwrapped the condom, rolling it onto his cock.

Tim hitched one of Damian’s legs over his shoulder and grabbed Damian’s hips, carefully positioning the head of his cock against Damian’s pink entrance, then slowly pressed in. 

The tight heat pressuring his cock was almost too much and had him groaning; Tim had to stop intermittently just to get used to the pressure, making sure he didn’t come before Damian did. Damian, on the other hand was making shamelessly appreciative noises, small hands gripping the sheets and eyes screwed shut.

“A-ah.”

“You like that?” Tim really needed a filter for his mouth. 

_As if you haven’t ruined him enough._

_‘Shut up.’_

Chuckles echoed in his head.

Tim watched his cock slowly disappeared into Damian’s tight passage with a feeling akin to disbelief. Heat and pleasure encapsulated him, squeezing his cock.

It felt _so_ good.

Tim wasn’t sure which one of them who sighed in relief when he finally bottomed out. He took a few deep breaths before making a few shallow thrusts which gradually turned into a stable pace of in and out. Damian moaned appreciatively, eyes hazy.

“Does that feel good?” Tim couldn’t help but ask.

A sharp nod was his answer.

Tim felt amused. Damian grew up in the League of Assassin; He probably had done worse thing.

_Excuses._

Tim snapped his hips more forcefully and Damian rewarded him with a particularly loud moan. Tim could see Damian’s small hard cock twitched, glistening with sweat and pre-come.

Damian wouldn’t last much longer and Tim realised the same apply to him; Damian’s tightness felt like it’s trying to milk every drop of essence it could from Tim yet the only thing Tim wanted to do at that moment was to bury himself into Damian’s ass forever.

Finally, with a sharp cry, Damian came all over his stomach, walls clenching and convulsing around Tim’s cock. Tim’s orgasm hit him as he thrust in one last time before releasing his own seed. He stilled for a minute, getting down from his high before pulling out and getting rid of the condom.

Damian was exhausted but Tim could see the obvious improvement —he was no longer hard and the redness had diminished a great deal. His eyes were drooping. 

Tim grabbed a towel to wipe Damian’s body and his. They could take a bath in the morning when Tim would be able to think straight.

He kissed Damian’s temple as if trying to reassure himself, grabbing fresh sheets and comforter from the closet.

Everything was fine.

* * *

Everything was not fine.

Damian questioned every life choice he had made that led to this moment- waking up naked in Drake’s bed.

This was not what he had in mind when he woke up in his younger body on the way to Gotham to meet his father for the first time.

He buried his face in his hands.

The only saving grace he had was that he didn’t blurt out any secret in the moment of weakness.

How the fuck didn’t he notice the tea leaves were contaminated for fuck’s sake?

“Argh.”

Damian mentally calculated the days— soon the Justice League will return with the news of Father’s ‘death’, 5 months off the actual date. It was worth it, using the connection he had acquired in Hell to delay Darkseid. And then, Richa- Grayson would take up the Batman mantle and he could be Robin again.

Robin.

Damian raised his head, finally looking at Drake. The 17-year-old was drooling and had it been Damian’s bed, he would have pushed the teenager off for that crime alone.

“I despise you,” he whispered, unable to hold himself back. “You killed my— _our_ family. You -you _defiled_ me. You fool, _monster_.”

Tears well up in his eyes and Damian had to take a few calming breaths. 

Drake was so close, he only needed to strike once to ensure the tragedy he had face would never occur again. 

He was a fool, though. Instead, he pressed a kiss to Drake’s forehead, even though he knew well this Drake was not his.

No, his Drake had died the moment he became Joker.

“I love you,” he confessed. 

He breathed again, shutting his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, only resolution was left reflected.

He shook Drake awake.

“Drake,” he said innocently. “What happened last night? I can’t remember anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated. In fact, I crave them so please, comment if you have the time. (welp, sounding a bit desperate there)
> 
> So it's kinda like my bedtime rn so if you want like an overview of what happens in the future that is not or if you just wanna bottom Damian content, please follow my Twitter @seisu2_2
> 
> https://twitter.com/seisu2_2


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